Edward's Journal Under the New Moon
by Mrs. Cope
Summary: Edward writes in his journal to escape the pain of separation from Bella. These entries are those he had time to write as he tried to make sense of these new feelings, emotions and needs.
1. Chapter 1: Thursday, September 12th

_A/N: Edward's Journal's are not always a match to the saga. They take into account when he was alone, when the need to purge himself would overtake him, and when he would have the time to write._

**Thursday, September 12th**

Were I human, I would rise and look into her eyes. Were I human, her days would be no mystery to me, and her nights no separate dream state. Were I human, I would never leave her side nor she mine until the last breath escaped our lips…

Little things plague me in the most seductive way. She works, a mindless job that rewards in pittance, yet she disallows the smallest of gifts from me. She saves and budgets for a college future that, giving her current stockpile, is dubious at best. She loves, with the generous abandon of one who clings desperately to life, but relentlessly requests to end her life.

Bella, you are such a mystery. You are a story of triumph over pain, of love everlasting, of hope in the desert that has been my life. I stand in awe as the story of your life unfolds.

I believe I've overcome her limitations on the gift I can give. I will give her whatever remnant of my soul is left: my music. Her lullaby, of course, it belongs to her; Esme's favorite; the thread of Jasper's love for Alice… Endless decades have prepared my repertoire for this occasion. Will she scorn this gift?

I detest the time spent outside her company, although it affords me this moment of reflection. Since my love has found its air, my writing time has dwindled to naught; it is a small price, a least of cares…

I must find a way to better accept her panic over being noticed. I believe that is what moves her to such desperation at times, the notice of others. She is not vain, nor does she shun the spotlight to draw attention in that perverse way some humans do. No, it terrifies her, and I don't completely understand it. I must listen to her words more carefully, with a better ear to discern these roots. Oh, that I could simply hear her thoughts! How improved would both our lives be!

Wait. _Would_ they be improved? I wonder.

I can hear the ruckus on the stairs. I can hear Alice, whose head is humming the details into a ballroom dance instead of the quiet ballet she promised for Bella's party. I can't be cross with my sister; I, too, share a mercurial joy at the thought of Bella's birthday. Celebrate the birth of my love, the genesis of my joy!


	2. Chapter 2: Saturday, September 14th

**Saturday, September 14th**

Tonight, as I laid beside Bella, watching her sleep in borrowed peace, my mind turned to a decision. This is not new, not whimsical. I knew this day would come.

I've read my journals to find that I have been a monster in sheep's clothing for far too long. While I have always known that as a devil I am a master of deceit, it was only upon rereading my journals that I discovered as I lie to my love, I deceived myself. It was never **for** her, never to **save** her, never to **give** to her. It was always for _me_, the selfish demon who plumbs the depth of putrefaction and calls it love.

I have placed a burden of unbearable weight upon a sheer wing of gossamer. Bella should never know immortal thirst, anger, madness – and this **is** madness – these weights should never restrain a soul so vivacious and light.

Beside Bella, soft as the breeze, gentle and sweet, I prayed for healing. Yes, I prayed. I am damned and yet I pray. My cries, empty; my prayers, unfulfilled. Prayers are for creatures of God, flesh-encased souls, not stone gargoyles who fancy themselves worthy. I shall never be worthy; I shall never be heard.

The pendulum swings. The gravity of the burden that holds me here is evidenced in her need for me. I can only free her from the weight, release her from gravity to allow her to soar to the angelic heights she deserves. Angels abound, Bella belongs. Acquired momentum releases the ballast and she can escape; I must move swiftly, cleanly. I am the burden of which she must be free.

The stone must break. And soon.


	3. Chapter 3: Day of Damnation

**Day of Damnation**

Tonight is the loneliest night in all my existence. Tonight, I lost my love forever, walked away from the most perfect joy I'd ever known because… my true nature has been revealed.

Blood bruises, blood heals; I have no blood, but yet I bleed. My love is a contradiction: I love you, but it destroys you. You love me, I still destroy you. Do I equate love with destruction? Is love only for those who bleed physically and forbidden to those who bleed metaphorically?

I would satisfy myself with this conclusion were it not for Carlisle and Esme, Alice and Jasper, even Emmett and Rosalie; even Rosalie! In the name of all that is holy!

How small she seemed as I played my role. I've forgotten my excellence at deception, having been in her truth-invoking presence for so long. Bella, you are so good; I shall find no pleasure knowing that I've caused you these few days of suffering.

Is it possible for a vampire to go insane?

Perhaps one day, after the passage of time, I will see her again. In a crowded place, where, hidden I can watch her movements with the crowd. I may be close enough to inhale that heady scent of her hair and touch her, just once; she wouldn't have to know. I could steal to her bedroom and watch her sleep…

It can never be. I can never see her again. My thoughts must not stray to what could have been, because it never could have been! A dream state; a dream of love. Something invented, unreal, unbearably unreal. Love of that magnitude and scope could never exist…

But what of the sweet whisper of her lips on mine? Were they not real? Her tears of anger, her meekness as I left.. Were they not real? Was Bella but a dream? Am I mad?

She is real. She must be real, she must live and breathe as I exist. I understand Heathcliff at last, I cannot live without my soul! Bella is my soul, my soul forged into woman, sweet, sweet Bella. I long to hold you.

What agony to know that heaven exists and I am forever damned!

I can race away from her, I can hide in deepest shadows, but I am lost regardless where I go. Is there no where, no place in heaven or earth to escape this hell? The road holds no relief; the flap on tires on the asphalt murmur her name, the engines hum it and drive me utterly senseless.

I have left her! I have saved her! Is this torture not enough? How will I know peace? Time drags wounded and sore, as if to annunciate my pain. I believed the thirst for her unbearable until her absence scourged my empty veins. I long for her. I ache for her. I want her.

Carlisle wishes to help, and his kindness is not unnoticed, but I must take leave of his goodness while I can still see. This uprooting was not of his choice, not borne of his actions, yet with love, he has acted and entreated the rest to follow. My family, I love them, but they can have no use for me in this state of existence.

I must find redemption. I must find peace. Without Bella in the flesh (her skin…) I must find that which is Bella in the world, and allow that to suffice. I must not sway, I cannot swoon.

Redemption, speak to me, deliver me, call me to your bidding before I am mad indeed.

Bella is safe from me, safe from my world, safe from my kind… Although the woman, James' woman may still cause harm. Is this what is in store for me, to rid the world of possible threats to Bella's existence? (Writing her name is painful, her name carries such sweet remnants of memories, futures now shredded beyond hope.)

Redemption must be mine: I shall track Victoria. Perhaps ensuring the safety of my love from afar will ease the yearning and restore my mind. A purpose, though not that I originally sought, but a purpose nonetheless, may redeem me while she lives.

When she no longer lives, my purpose, my reason for existence shall die as well.


	4. Chapter 4: November

**November**

This cannot be real. I have followed every path, traced each step, pursued every scent and still Victoria eludes me. I don't understand.

I am fast and my senses are strong, but I believe I've lost more than my love in the struggle for redemption. Some part of me was left behind, standing with her in the forest, as if the kiss that bade her goodbye tied some portion of my being to that spot, there with her. I should be able to achieve a small thing, a simple thing, as tracking this woman with easy grace. Yet she escapes me still.

Days pass. Nights pass. Day. Night. I am no closer to redemption than when I began this quest. This warm city holds no hope for me. There is no warmth for me. I must leave tonight for the hunt; my thirst leads me to thoughts that may unleash the monster within me. No, I will not allow it untethered. I owe her that much.

Even now, outside this city, I can only remember the sweetness of her breath, the caress of her hair in a gentle breeze with loss and remorse. Her fiery kisses I imagined would consume me and in turn, consume her. I regret loving her, I regret leaving her, I regret losing her. Whatever momentary pain she may have felt I regret. But she is of human stuff and will recover. She has her family, she has her friends. Perhaps by her next birthday, I will be a vague memory of short-lived infatuation, meaningless and all but forgotten.

How unkind the loom of fate, to weave her life amongst every fiber of my being!

I must remain here and now. I cannot falter. Victoria is the quest for the here and now. That is the path of redemption, a path I am obliged to follow.


	5. Chapter 5: December

**December**

I've followed this scent, this path for weeks now. I will not rest. I cannot rest, living with this obligation that will be my only redemption. Yet, I cannot attain my grail! Victoria eludes me still.

As I ran down the path today, I saw Bella. She stood amongst a group of children, swaying with their sing-song games, and I was utterly mesmerized. I stared in amazement from the deepest shadows in the park, the hope and joy an agonizing torment. She moved slightly, slowly, and then her eyes opened to mine and she saw into the core of my existence. I had no secrets, no thought or emotion I could ever keep from her. I was bare and vulnerable to her beauty.

I moved a step toward her and she looked away, and just as suddenly she was gone. The children remained, chanting their playground chorus, but Bella was gone… I ran, circling the Texan field, searching for her, frantic to find her, when a slow realization at last sank in. She was not there. My need for her produced this apparition of love, so cutting and divine I could scarcely grasp that she was only a vision of love, a vision I did not deserve.

Perhaps I left in too much haste. Perhaps she needs me. What if she is hurt, bleeding, calling my name? Oh, the pain of it, that she call for me and I am not there! But this is a lie…

I wrestle with my need for her, to pervert my desires and selfishness into _her_ need, her desires. She is young and resilient. No doubt by now there is something, someone, someone else… The stars could not know such a flame that burns me now! Bella, love! Bella, please!

Am I so monstrous that I must return? I have given her the life that she should have, the freedom that is her birthright. I cannot sway; I must not swoon. She is all, she is life, she is love and she must be all these encased in a delicate, fragile wrapper away from me. My longing is naught, my need inconsequential. She is all, and she must be safe.

In this season of joy, of rejoicing, families united in love, I am bitter with despair. In this land so rich in piety, the saints and angels cannot deliver the demon to me.

I cannot find Victoria. The one act of redemption I could find, the one action I could take, and it is denied to me.

I have run a continent. I have searched a nation. I lived a century. All of this, all these feats, I would trade for one night, to lay at peace in the arms of my love. I see her everywhere: the rich, deep eyes, unblinking and longing – I pray, longing! - gaze up at me from the pool from which I drink. Her laugh rings in the song of the towhees at dawn and the hum of the woods at twilight. I can feel her chest rise and fall, warm beneath my hand.

And music lies as still as my silent heart. Where each sound she made was inspiration for song, the chords lay empty in my mind. The absence was not immediately apparent. My thoughts were with and for she who is my love. The search distracted me from the lyrical existence I'd known. Music was replaced with racing, speeding to sanctification, atonement, which of course has been futile. Once the worthlessness of my efforts encased me, I noticed the silence. And in the silence, I heard again the absence of Bella's voice. Whatever soul I had, whatever music was in me… has abandoned me, and is gone. The carols ring on, mocking.

Carlisle reaches to me, and I can only bow under the weight of guilt I feel. I cannot return. He promises my return will make the family whole and restore me, but how can I be restored when my heart has been ripped from me? I fear for what he would find to see me know, to see how truly broken I am. I shame his love.

Pointless, aimless, fruitless, I run in circles going nowhere. I run to land's end for no particular reason.

Bella, if you find this entry, know how my heart breaks for you; know that I injure myself to see you safe; know that I am, and always will be your Edward. Though you cannot hear my voice, you are everywhere about me; though I cannot touch your face or caress your hair, I feel you in the trees, the air, the earth. You are the fire that burns within this icy hull. I am nothing without you. I cannot exist in your world; I cannot live in a world where you don't exist.


	6. Chapter 6: Last Entry

**The Last Entry**

Carlisle, my steadfast friend, my brother, my father, I have left this for you so that you might know my love for you in my final hours, and understand my reasons – or lack of reason – that has brought me to this place and time.

I have long understood your loneliness. I cannot say I have always shared that grief, but I knew how it twisted and tortured your soul. I cannot fathom the years you walked alone, silent and yearning. Your compassion is a mark of your mettle; a lesser man would have turned to grief and despair, overwhelmed.

I am that lesser man.

She is gone, Carlisle! She walks with the angels now, appropriately, appurtenant to the beauty of her soul. My only salvation, if there is one at all, is to know that she is now safe, beyond the reach of my selfishness and obsession.

I will leave this world at the hands of the Volturi. You will not be able to intercede, although I know that you will feel moved to do so; I invoke these forces to take my life. I will die, resting finally in ash.

I pray that you will know how I have trusted and treasured your friendship, and the love you and your wife have given me. I regret that I cannot leave you something as beautiful and estimable as you both have given me. Hear me, father, friend: You must never, never lament the change you struck in me. I have yearned for deliverance from this thirst; I have hungered for a mortality that would never return. This is true. But the metamorphosis you gave to me gave me her.

How I wish you could see my mind now, my friend.

Until she breathed, I was certain my thirst was the strongest pull in the universe. How could I know the true metamorphosis she would bring? She loosed my spirit amongst the stars and planets; her soul brought life to my frozen existence. Her warmth lit my moonless night, shining brighter, stronger and more compellingly than any force I had ever known. I would never have known this, but for you. There are no words strong enough, no expression deep enough to express my gratitude.

God has always been a Presence for you, and now, I shall test His presence in me. If God does indeed see some spark of soul in me, if He can find any goodness in this black and still heart, I pray that the vision of love, as you have told, is granted me in pity before I lay in ash. I pray that this is true; I will that this is true…

Please give my love to the family. Begrudge me not my death; know that I love you and do not regret the act I take today.

She sleeps.

Has there ever been a woman more beautiful than Bella? At long last, I can say her name. Bella, Bella… Bella. Her very name bespeaks her shape: beautiful.

Watching the rise and fall of her chest, the exhalation of her breath, the uptake of air, I am awestruck by the very essence of her. My savior, my salvation, my delivery from despair… Bella. Bella love.

I am fulfilled watching over her as she sleeps. Her strength defies description! Though human (absolutely and consummately so!) her will reigned over her need for rest. Stubborn, no… steadfast.

Her delicate eyelids flutter.

I must come to grips with the truth of the night. While she has rescued me - again! How is that possible? – yes, she has saved me once again but this does not ensure that I am welcomed in her world. Her heart is of sweeter stuff; she would never knowingly allow a friend to suffer.

I must accept that Bella – please no – may not… want me. Time moves so swiftly among her kind; she may have found joy and release in a life less riddled with nearly insurmountable perils. She cannot stand as an island in a stream, cold and unmoving, as I can…

I love her. I love her beyond reason, beyond time, beyond consequence. If she has moved on, then so be it. Though the agony of her absence in my arms will torture me, I will gladly endure it for her. She may not know this, but I feel it deeply in my bones, as deeply as my love for her: she is mine and I am hers, now, forever, always. No matter where I stand, I stand for her. No matter what the cost, I will pay it for her.

For her, always for her.

This must be the world of her choosing.

But for now, as a small melody returns to me unbidden, she sleeps, and I will watch over her as she sleeps and wait, with hope…


End file.
